#Chapter 121: The Morning After

The Grand Assembly Hall felt eerily still, like there had just been a death overnight. Pack leaders leaned in to whisper, but were quick to turn quiet as soon as I passed by. Their eyes tracked me like I was a tragic car accident that they couldn’t help but gawk at. I kept my chin up. No way I was giving these political vultures the satisfaction of seeing me unravel. Inside, though? My heart felt shredded. The breakfast looked incredible—silver trays heaped with fruit, warm bread, pastries that should've made me drool. All of it tasted like dry cardboard. I sat at a table by one of the windows, where I could watch the chaos and try to hold onto whatever dignity I had left. My coffee had gone cold twenty minutes ago, but I kept sipping it anyway. It gave me something to do with my hands. Three tables over, Alpha Morrison's son whispered something to his father. Both their gazes darted to me before quickly looking away. I caught the word "unstable" and felt my stomach twist.